Читать книгу Reluctant Witness - Kathleen Long - Страница 8

Kerri Nelson never heard the glass she dropped shatter in the sink. As the series of explosions ripped through the quiet August afternoon, the dish towel slipped from her fingers, her heart catching in her chest.

Her mind raced through the possibilities—not of what had happened, but of where her son was. Where was Thomas? He’d taken his skateboard when he’d left an hour ago.

Where had he gone?

Fear danced along her spine, sending the small hairs at the back of her neck to attention.

Black smoke billowed into the crystal blue sky above the line of trees behind her home, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Close. Too close to home.

She hit the floor in an all-out sprint, slowing only long enough to yank open the kitchen door, focused on one thing only—Thomas.

As she raced through the woods and into the clearing, flames licked at all but one of the six huge houses in the area’s newest development. Pine Ridge Estates.

Anxiety pooled deep inside her. Tom had a fixation with construction sites, always had, ever since his daddy had taken him to work and gotten him his own tiny hard hat as a toddler.

She’d forbidden him from coming anywhere near this site. Had he defied her? Could he have been playing inside one of the partially constructed homes when something went horribly wrong?

Her gaze landed on a township truck parked at the edge of the dirt road, yet she saw no one. An inspector probably. She sent up a silent prayer that whoever had driven that truck onto the site was far from where the fires originated.

Sirens wailed in the distance, drawing nearer. Kerri’s fear morphed into panic as she scanned the construction site and the surrounding woods for any sign of her son.

Her heart twisted in her chest.

“Thomas?” Her first attempt at calling her son’s name was strangled, tight. “Thomas!” Her second wasn’t much better.

“Mom.”

The sound of his voice teased her through the smoke-filled air, but she couldn’t locate the source. Couldn’t see her son.

“Thomas!”

The blaring sirens were muffled beyond the pounding of her heart, the rush of her pulse in her ears. When her son emerged from behind a stand of trees, she saw him as if he were in slow motion, his face pale, but apparently without a scratch.

She ran as fast as her feet would carry her, gathering the nine-year-old who’d grown too old for hugs into her arms, hanging on for dear life. His arms locked around her waist and squeezed. When Kerri finally put enough space between them to tip his face to hers, she saw terror in his eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

He shook his head.

“Did you see what happened?”

Tom nodded. “Everything blew up. I’m sorry.”

Sorry? Surely he didn’t have a thing to do with what had happened.

A horn blared and Kerri realized the emergency vehicles were crossing Red Lion Road, getting ready to turn into the dirt path that gave access to the new community. She linked her arm through her son’s and rushed him back toward the trees.

“Quickly,” she said, fear palpable in her voice. “Did anyone see you here?”

“No,” he answered, and relief surged through her.

They reached the cover of the woods just as a sea of vehicles and flashing lights careened onto the cul-de-sac, once lined with multimillion-dollar homes, now fringed by flames and smoke.

“Hurry.” She urged Tom forward, away from the fire and destruction, back toward the safety of their home.

Sorenson Construction no doubt had insurance that would cover whatever accident had caused the explosion. Lord knew it wasn’t the first accident on a Sorenson site.

Her stomach twisted and bile threatened to climb into her throat at the memory of another accident three years earlier. She shoved away the unwanted images—the hospital waiting room, the casket, friends and family gathered in her home.

Right now, Kerri needed to focus on her son’s safety. Nothing else.

She locked the door behind them as they entered the kitchen, as if the brass bolt could keep them safe from whatever threat might lurk at the Sorenson site.

“I’m sorry.” Tom dropped his gaze to the ceramic tile floor. “I wasn’t supposed to go there.”

“Ever.” The sharpness of her tone startled Kerri and she read the surprise in her son’s face as he lifted his focus to her.

“They put in new curbs,” he said flatly. “Frankie said they were awesome for skateboarding.”

Awesome for skateboarding.

Kerri closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Her son was fine. He was unhurt. She needed to focus on that. But the reality was he could have been killed.

“I saw someone.”

If possible, Tom’s voice had grown even fainter and more frightened.

“From the township?” She snapped her eyes open and studied his expression. “The man from the truck?”

Tom nodded his head—slowly—as if he were afraid of what he’d seen. “I saw him, too. But he never came out again.”

Never came out again.

My God.

“There was somebody else?” Countless thoughts battled for position inside Kerri’s brain. Had the explosion been set on purpose? Had Tom witnessed a crime?

“He was running, Mom. The other man.”

The little color that had been left in Tom’s cheeks was gone now, making the blue of his eyes shocking next to his fair cheeks and sandy brown hair.

“Running where?” Kerri narrowed her gaze, her brain racing to keep up, to put the pieces of her son’s story together.

“Away from the last house. Into the woods.”

“From the fire?”

“Before the fire. Just before the fire. He came out of the last house after the inspector went into the first.”

“Like he knew what was going to happen?”

Tom nodded, his gaze dropping back to the floor.

Fear squeezed at Kerri’s throat, threatening to strangle her. What if the fire wasn’t an accident, but something far more sinister? What if the man her son had seen had set the blaze? What if he’d seen her son?

She worked to steady her breathing, wanting to avoid panicking Tom any more than he already was.

“Did he see you?” She spoke the words slowly, distinctly, punctuating the importance of the question.

He shook his head.

“Are you sure?” Hope bubbled inside her.

Tom nodded and she pulled him into a hug, tucking his head protectively against her chest.

“Good,” she whispered into his hair. “Let’s keep this between you and me…deal?”

His head moved in another nod, and Kerri squeezed her eyes shut. Was she making a mistake? What if the inspector had been injured in the blast? What if Tom had seen something that might help the police figure out what had happened?

No. She mentally chastised herself. It was all too likely that the fire might be blamed on her son somehow, even though he’d had nothing to do with setting the blaze. After all, the investigation into the accident that had killed her husband had pointed the final finger of blame directly at the deceased.

She’d be damned if she’d let her son get anywhere near an investigation, especially an investigation involving Sorenson Construction.

As she held Tom close, she watched the fire’s black smoke billow above the line of trees. She worked through her son’s story in her head, repeating every word silently, analyzing every detail to see if she were making the right decision.

Awesome for skateboarding.

Tom hadn’t had his skateboard when she’d found him at the site.

“Where’s your skateboard, honey?”

He winced. “I dropped it when I ran.”

Kerri swallowed. “Where?” Where investigators could find it? Where the man Tom had seen could find it?

She drew in a deep breath and held it, picturing the words she’d written on the bottom of the board with a permanent marker. Thomas Nelson. 122 Holly Drive.

She might as well have drawn a map.

She had to find that board before anyone else did.

Kerri pushed her son out to arm’s length. “Where were you when you dropped it?”

He described a location not far from where she’d first seen him, and Kerri nodded her head, praying his memory hadn’t been altered by shock or fear.

“Lock the door behind me and don’t answer it for anyone.”

Her son’s pale eyes grew wide.

“I have to go find it. I don’t want anyone to know you were there.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she answered, knowing her reply was unsatisfactory even for a nine-year-old. “Just because,” she repeated.

A long while later, Kerri continued to pick her way through the foliage behind the houses, choking on the stench of burning lumber. The billowing smoke had shifted from black to white and she knew the operation would soon switch from fire fighting to investigation. She had to move quickly.

Relief surged through her when she spotted the wild swirls of cobalt-blue and lime-green paint that covered the board. She knew her sense of urgency was partly irrational. If questioned, she could easily say Tom had lost the board on another day, at another time, but she wasn’t taking chances.

Kerri had no sooner wrapped her fingers around the edge of the board and tucked it under one arm when she heard deep voices. Two unfamiliar, but one as familiar as a long lost friend.

Wade Sorenson.

The deep timbre reached into her heart and squeezed. Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them back. She had no time to relive the pain she’d felt three years earlier, when Wade had betrayed her husband—his best friend.

She dropped into a squat and waited for the men to move farther away. The two strangers walked toward the one unburned home, and Wade turned back toward where a dark car had been parked.

Without looking back, Kerri took off in a sprint, praying she reached the deep cover of the pines before Wade spotted her.

Whatever mess Wade Sorenson had gotten himself into this time was no business of her son’s. No business of hers. Sorenson could take care of himself.

All Kerri had to worry about was taking care of Thomas, and she wasn’t going to let the man she’d once considered one of her closest friends inflict any more heartache on her family than he already had.

WADE STOOD BACK, arms crossed, and watched the tendrils of gray and white smoke wind their way up into the air. Emotions battled deep inside his gut. Anger. Disbelief. Denial.

The red lights of the emergency vehicles flashed like strobes, but the sirens had stopped now, the paramedics and police escort having left over twenty minutes earlier.

The township inspector had been in bad shape. Unconscious, burned and barely responsive. The poor guy had come to do a routine framing and electrical inspection, and instead he’d left fighting for his life.

Guilt spiraled in the pit of Wade’s stomach. Had one of his guys installed the gas line incorrectly? Had a blowtorch been left on? What?

Pine Ridge Estates had been the culmination of a dream for him. He’d worked for years to build his company into one with a reputation home buyers would seek out. Sure, he’d almost lost it all after the Flamingo accident, but once the investigation had cleared him of any liability, he’d moved forward, rebuilding his reputation project by project. Until now.

Wood splintered and voices cried out as part of a framed ceiling gave way and crashed into the burned-out shell below. He winced, muttering a string of expletives.

Only one of the six houses remained untouched. Intact. The fire investigator, Charlie Forbes, emerged from the partially constructed building and walked toward where Wade stood. Wade moved to close the gap between them, anxious to hear the man’s take on what had happened.

Was it possible the township inspector had done something to cause the series of explosions? Wade drew in a deep breath, then sighed. Not likely. What had happened here today was no accident. He’d been targeted. Wade knew it in his gut, as much as he wanted to deny it.

Once they were within earshot of each other, Forbes spoke. “The sixth incendiary device didn’t blow.”

Incendiary device. Sonofa—

“Signature’s consistent with Project Liberation,” the investigator continued. “I’ve called in the Feds.”

Project Liberation.

Ecoterrorism.

Wade’s stomach did a slow sideways pitch. He’d known developing this community on the fringe of the South Jersey Pinelands might affront certain ecologically minded types, but he’d gone through the proper channels, including community meetings and hearings. His plan had been approved with flying colors, to the liking of everyone he’d met.

Obviously, not to the liking of the powers within the Project Liberation organization.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

The investigator nodded, then gestured for Wade to follow him. They made their way around the houses until they stood close to where the third shell smoldered.

Forbes pointed at a portion of the home’s back wall.

Two words had been spray painted in black. No Sprawl.

“I’ve read about this.” Wade uttered the words on the heels of a frustrated breath. “I didn’t know they’d developed an interest in the Pine Barrens.”

“Apparently, they have,” Forbes answered.

“Can I go inside?” Wade jerked a thumb toward the only unscathed home.

Forbes shook his head. “Can’t do that. We need to keep the specifics quiet. Chain of evidence. That sort of thing.”

Wade frowned. “Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with this?”

The other man shrugged. “Don’t take this personally, but one of the first things we look at is possible insurance fraud.”

Wade pointed to the spray-painted graffiti. “Even with this?”

“Anyone can buy a can of spray paint.”

Forbes’s attention was pulled away as a dark sedan eased to a stop behind a ladder truck, its tires sinking into the now thick mud. “Task force is here,” he said as he walked away from Wade, making it clear their discussion was over.

“Wade. Long time no see.” The driver of the car raised his hand in greeting. “Forbes.”

“McCann.” Wade and Forbes spoke simultaneously.

Detective Adam McCann was one of Wade’s oldest friends. He was also the newly appointed head of the county task force on Homeland Security.

“What have we got?” McCann asked as he stopped next to Wade, momentarily clasping a hand on his shoulder. “You doing all right?”

Wade nodded and Forbes jerked a thumb toward the smoldering houses behind them. “Clean evidence in the sixth house. Matches the devices in the other five.”

“Liberation?” McCann asked.

“Signature’s there.” Forbes nodded.

“Any word on the inspector?” Wade asked.

McCann pursed his lips and gave a quick shake of his head. “Not yet. I called in on the way over here. Doesn’t look good, though.”

“Damn.” Wade dropped his gaze to the ground.

“We’ll get them.” McCann stepped toward one of the burned-out shells. “Let’s take a look before the Feds get here and screw everything up.”

“Follow me,” Forbes answered. He stopped in his tracks when Wade moved to follow. “This won’t take long.”

Wade stood silently as he watched the two disappear into the skeleton of a five-thousand-square-foot estate home. He moved toward McCann’s car and rested one hip on the fender.

Project Liberation.

Chances were if he rebuilt, they’d strike again. But maybe McCann and his task force could take them down. He didn’t know much about the ecoterrorism group, but he knew they were very careful, and very clean. They left their signature, but nothing else. Nothing that would point to any one individual.

Their organization prided itself on the lack of any sort of paper trail. One suspected bomber had been arrested out in Montana, but Wade couldn’t remember hearing anything else.

A sudden movement in the woods beyond the homes captured his attention, sending all thoughts of Project Liberation far from his mind.

The flash of long, auburn hair was unmistakable. Even after all these years, he knew the owner’s identity immediately. He’d been admiring that particular head of hair since high school.

Kerri Nelson.

She and her son lived just on the other side of the dense foliage. But why would she show up at the crime scene? Morbid curiosity? Not her style.

Even more importantly, why had she run? The familiar old guilt twisted at his insides. She’d obviously seen him and wanted to get as far away as she could, as quickly as possible.

Adam McCann emerged from the house alone, and Wade pulled his focus out of the past and into the present.

“Hop in. We’ll talk,” Adam said as he pulled open the car’s front door.

When they’d both settled into their seats, Adam handed an unopened cup of coffee to Wade, then took a sip from a second one.

“Anything you want to tell me?”

Wade shot his friend a sharp glare. “I had nothing to do with this.”

“Good,” McCann answered. “I still have to question you.”

“When?” Wade drew in a deep breath and took a hit of the bitter coffee.

“Later’s good. Now’s better.”

“I can follow you to the station.” Wade met his friend’s visual scrutiny head-on. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Hell of a thing.” McCann turned his gaze back to the smoldering rubble. “Insured?”

“Always,” Wade answered.

“We’re not going to get anywhere without a witness, you know that, right?” The skin between McCann’s eyes puckered into a crease. “These people are like ghosts. Just about impossible to catch.”

Wade nodded, disappointment balling inside him. “I figured as much. What about the inspector?”

“It’ll be a miracle if he recovers, but right now he’s our only hope. The scene is clean. They knew what they were doing.”

He put down his coffee and pinned Wade with a glare. “No one else scheduled to be out here today?”

Wade shook his head. “We were waiting on the inspection.”

“Well—” McCann pulled in a sharp breath “—we’ll question surrounding residents. Make sure no one was out here at the time of the blast. I’ll get that started while you and I head downtown.”

The image of Kerri’s retreating back flashed through Wade’s mind. Should he tell McCann she’d been at the scene? After all, how long could she have been there? Certainly not long enough to be responsible in any way. The investigator had walked the entire scene and the surrounding woods. If Forbes had seen her, they would have heard about it.

Wade reached for the door handle, suddenly needing to get out of the cramped space. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“See if you can come up with a list of anyone who might hold a grudge against you.”

McCann’s words stopped Wade cold. He hesitated, half-in and half-out of the car.

“I thought the signature was consistent with Project Liberation?”

McCann nodded, narrowing his gaze. “True. But they’ve hit enough targets for their signature to be known. Can’t rule out a copycat.”

He twisted on the ignition, and Wade pushed himself out of the car.

“See you in a few,” McCann called out just as Wade slammed the door.

Wade slapped his palm against the glass and stepped clear of the car’s tires as McCann pulled away.

Anyone who might hold a grudge against you.

McCann’s words echoed in his brain as he headed for his truck.

There was one person who definitely held a grudge, but she wasn’t capable of something like this. Yet she had been at the scene. Wade had no idea how long, or why, but she’d been here.

Kerri had made it very clear after John’s funeral that she wanted nothing to do with Wade ever again. He’d respected her wishes. Until now.

Now an innocent man had been critically injured and Pine Ridge Estates had suffered millions of dollars worth of damage. Wade had every intention of finding out exactly why he’d been targeted and by whom.

Even though he knew McCann and his team would leave no stone unturned, he had to talk to Kerri. Maybe she’d seen something—seen someone. Then again, maybe she hadn’t. No matter. If she knew anything at all, Wade had to know.

He and Kerri Nelson were about to have their first reunion after three long years.

Whether she wanted to, or not.